UNCLE DURGAN'S GIRDLE (A Daddy Tale)

THEN:    


This is my favorite of the diverse stories my sisters and I have been able to get out of my father many wonderful times over the years. He tells what the Appalachian mountain people call "Jack Tales." The most famous of these you may have heard; it is called "Jack and the Beanstalk". He tells many other mountain tales, jokes, and true life stories (like the one below.) Pop is quite the storyteller and I wish you could hear him tell this story! But you will have to settle for my version of this family favorite. This one is called...



                                         Uncle Durgan's Girdle



   My father is the proud daddy of daughters. How blessed I am to be one of them! He is a much loved and respected preacher. He is wise, mild mannered, and probably the most humble individual you could ever hope to meet. But this was not always the case. In his younger days, my pop was a hellion. He was not a big fellow, but was prone to quoting, “Dynamite comes in small packages,” and he was overly fond of proving it. Dad had discovered that all you really needed to win most fights was a good dose of fury, and he excelled at losing his temper. Thus, he excelled at winning fights until he had made quite the name for himself. Few men bothered demanding respect from my father, fewer still received it, but Uncle Durgan did. Durgan Rowe was an old man when my daddy was still a young one, and Durgan has not walked this earth for many years. Yet, to this day, my daddy calls him “Uncle Durgan”, a title not due to any relation, but solely to the hard earned and well deserved respect that Pop gave to Durgan Rowe.
   
    Unlike my father, Durgan was a big man whose size alone seduced most men into treating him with the highest respect. Durgan was a straight talker and a hard hitter with a temper that seemed to have just stepped off the boat from Ireland. My firebrand father walked softly around only two people: my grandfather and Durgan Rowe.
   
    Uncle Durgan suffered from a malady that was rather common in those days. He had a painful rupture that plagued him. It was low on his left side. It pained him considerably, but it did seem to ease off when he held it firmly in place against his skin. The problem was, he couldn't go around holding his side all day long. One day Uncle Durgan asked my father what could be done to hold the rupture in and Pop suggested that a girdle might serve that purpose and save Uncle Durgan a lot of pain and trouble. Women used girdles to hold things in, didn't they? Well, what Durgan needed was something to hold something in. Yes, Uncle Durgan agreed that a girdle was exactly what he needed, but what size? Dad suggested a large or even an extra large, but Uncle Durgan wanted that rupture held in snugly, and so decided he would get a size medium ladies girdle and he and dad would see if that took care of the problem. Secretly, my pop found the entire girdle idea rather amusing; Dad has always had a healthy sense of humor. But he hid his amusement well; the one thing you never did was laugh at Durgan Rowe!
   
    After Uncle Durgan boldly bought that girdle from a rather surprised clerk in a ladies store, he and Daddy secreted themselves off in the basement of my grandparent's house to put the contraption to good use. Uncle Durgan stripped and began tugging the girdle on while my father stood by awkwardly, wondering how one helps a grown man put on a girdle, and wondering even more how one watches a grown man put on a girdle without laughing hysterically. Durgan struggled mightily with the girdle and Daddy struggled mightily with his inclination to laugh. Finally Dad joined in the task, holding his breath to keep from laughing, and after much effort, they managed to get the girdle up over Durgan's hips, though not quite to his waist, before the elderly man paused, panted, and looked at my dad.
   
    "Will-iam?" Uncle Durgan had an exaggerated drawl when he spoke and his head shook constantly. He was forever telling you, “no,” without really meaning to. By this point Durgan seemed more uncomfortable than the rupture had ever made him. Breathlessly he conceded, "It ain't a 'gonna work. Help me get this blamed thing off."
   
    And that is how my father once wound up yanking a girdle off an old man, or attempting to; the girdle would not cooperate. It would not budge going downward, and by this point Uncle Durgan would have none of it going upward! Daddy tried to slip a knife inside it and cut the seams, but Uncle Durgan's flesh hung over the side too far for the knife to gain safe access to the cloth. Then Uncle Durgan had the fine idea of lying on the old iron bed while Daddy tugged the offending article of clothing off; so this they tried. Durgan held to the bed rails and Dad yanked at the girdle. But yank after yank the garment did not move. The bed, however, did move. It slid and pivoted. It rocked and trembled. It squeaked and groaned in protest at such abuse. It made such a racket that my grandmother and my mother peeped down the stairs and called from the rooms above to find out what was causing all the noise.
   
    Those who know my dad wonder how he, with his wonderful sense of humor, managed to keep his composure as long as he did. And it will not surprise them at all to be told that realizing how all the squeeks and groans sounded to his wife and mother was my father's final undoing. He fell to the floor laughing madly, as though there were no tomorrow. Indeed, it was easy to believe that there would be no tomorrow for anyone with gall enough to outright laugh at Durgan Rowe!
   
    But that was the day my father learned that the respect he had for Uncle Durgan was returned. When Daddy finally stopped laughing and dared to glance at Uncle Durgan through tear filled eyes. The stern old man was simply glaring, and not too menacingly at that, in Dad's direction. His head was shaking, telling Dad, “no”.

"We-ell?" Durgan asked, "You done laughing now?"

Rather sheepishly Daddy said, "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Then help me on out of this thing!"

    Eventually they did manage to pull the girdle off. Uncle Durgan survived, the bed survived, and so did Dad. It turned out to be a great learning experience for everyone involved. My Daddy learned that Uncle Durgan had a real soft spot for him because he did not kill him, or even beat him, for laughing uncontrollably. My mother and my grandmother learned that sometimes you just do not want to know what two crazy men are up to in a basement. And Uncle Durgan? Well, I would say he learned two things, that some things are easier to get into than out of, and that he would never fit into a size medium ladies girdle!